Perhaps in the absence of such marked vices as bring one to
open shame one might be slower to undertake vigorous self-improvement.
You and I have no difficulty in seeing the sin lying at _our_ door."
"N--no," said I.
"Well, _have you_?" said Aunt Isobel, facing round. "Bless me," she
added impetuously, "don't say you haven't if you have. Never let any
one else think for you, child!"
"If you'll only have patience and let me explain--"
"I'm patience its very self!" interrupted my aunt, "but I do hate a No
that means Yes."
_My_ patience began to evaporate.
"There are some things, Aunt Isobel, _you know_, which can't be
exactly squeezed into No and Yes. But if you don't want to be bothered
I won't say anything, or I'll say yes or no, which ever you like."
And I kicked the shovel. (My aunt had shoved the poker with _her_
slipper.) She drew her foot back and spoke very gently:
"I beg your pardon, my dear. Please say what you were going to say,
and in your own way."
There is no doubt that good-humour--like bad--is infectious. I drew
nearer to Aunt Isobel, and fingered the sleeve of her dress
caressingly.
"You know, dear Aunt Isobel, that I should never think of saying to
the Rector what I want to say to you.
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